


New year. Same old clichés. (M)

by notyourown



Series: Ian and Mickey: Mexico [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourown/pseuds/notyourown
Summary: Mickey's side of the New Year call.





	

It was New Year's Eve.

Five minutes to midnight. The night sky was dark, but the street was loud and cheerful, muffled music coming out of the night club Mickey was bartending in. He lit his cigarette, watching it slowly burn in his mouth. Mexico sure as hell was pretty. The streets were all lit up with Christmas lights and the air wasn't chilly as he remembered Chicago air being at this time of the year. It was fairly warm, actually, and Mickey was taking in all the warmth he'd been missing his entire life. So he breathed in and looked at the sky, sort of smiling. Mexico was good to him.

It's been a month and so far he'd been able to score some bartending gigs. Turns out Gallagher's money is worth shit ton out here so he was pretty much covered for a while, but still didn't want to risk running out soon. So he got himself an apartment and started looking around for whatever jobs he could find before he learned how to get around better. He was afraid his lack of Spanish skills was going to fuck with finding a job, but it turned out that speaking English fluently was a major upside because of the frequent American tourists. So he landed a few one-nights gigs and this was one of them. New Years Eve turned out to be pretty profitable and he wouldn't have had anywhere else to be either way. This was maybe the best thing for him now.

Work as much as he can and as hard as he can to stock up some money and buy his own place here some day. Not like he had any other plans. And also, working helped him not to think. He didn't have to think about prison, about Chicago, about his son. About Ian. Fuck. Ian. He still regretted calling him from his new number once he  bought the phone. Why did he do that? It was a weird fucking night, Mickey was wasted and had just fucked some random cute guy he found in a bar when he suddenly started feeling melancholic. The conversation was awkward, both of them silent for most of it and it all ended up with Mickey telling Ian he made the wrong choice and hanging up. He didn't even think about calling him afterwards, but focused on moving on and building a life instead. He met a couple of cool guys on his first bartending gig, them too being young and broke and trying to make ends meet, and they asked him to grab a beer after work. They've been grabbing beers casually every couple days since. They like to watch soccer, which Mickey still doesn't fucking understand at all, but turns out that it's not so much of a pussy sport after all. He's been trying to catch on with the rules and shit before he starts actually playing it and he's starting to kind of like it. So life wasn't bad at all right now. He got a fresh start, some friends and even a weird, unexpected new hobby. And money. Legal money. Wow, that was a strange thing to cope with.

Anyway, Ian has been trying to stay in touch ever since the call, he kept sending some messages, selfies of him and the sunset with captions like: _reminded me of the good old days_

Oh, and what good old days were that? When Ian was acting out for months and didn't let anyone help him? Or when he kidnapped Mickey's son? Or when he cheated on Mickey with a bunch of weird, old, drugged out queens?

The strangest thing was Mickey couldn't even hold any of that over Ian's head. He tried to, in prison, he tried to hate him. Tried to forget him. Tried to convince himself that their every moment together was a lie, an illusion, something worthless and irrelevant. It was obviously irrelevant to Ian, so… But he just couldn't look at it that way. No matter how Ian hurt him – repeatedly – he still made him happiest Mickey had ever been before. He was there for him when Mickey wasn't even aware of needing anyone at all. And Mickey reciprocated all those things. He was there for Ian, too. Always. Through everything. He forgave and was ready to trust him again. Fuck Ian for not being ready to do the same. But he was done regretting shit and letting himself reflect the past, this was a new leaf and he was going to make the best of it.

As his cigarette burned slowly, the time passed with it. It was almost midnight when his phone rang. He took it out of the pocket, surprised to see the caller ID. After short deliberation, he answered it, ignoring his unsteadily beating heart.

"Hola.“ he greeted cheerfully, trying to surpress his uneasiness.

"Hey. It's me.“ the voice answered.

"Ian?“ he was trying hard to sound surprised.

"Yeah. Happy New Year.“ the voice said.

"You too, dumbass. What's up?“

"Just, uh, wanted to  hear your voice.“ Mickey heard and he couldn't help but  feel a little worried for the man on the other end of the line.

"Everything alright?“ he asked.  

"Yeah, uh. Yeah.“ the voice went silent. "No, actually. I really fucking miss you.“  the man said, obviously with a great amount of caution that didn't miss Mickey's ear. How could it? 

Mickey felt his heart ache, Just when it was starting to get better. "Ian. Don't do this, you can't do this to me again.“

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I just- Fuck. Forget it.“  The line went flat. Mickey stood out in the dark as the city was awakened by fireworks and cheering was coming out of the nightclub. A couple holding hands passed him, both visibly drunk. They said something in Spanish to him, but he just ignored it. Probably congratulating the New Year or whatever. He took a deep breath and dialled the number back.

Within seconds,he heard Ian pick up.

"Why the fuck are you being dramatic?“ he blurted out, agitated and angry and worried and- Fuck. Why was this happening again? Mickey could sure as hell live with Ian leaving him again, but he can't stand the miserable fucking attempts at communication and Ian's smiley face on his phone screen. He was getting really heated when the words caught him by surprise:

"I'm sorry. I love you and I miss you. Just needed you to know that.“

He had fuck all to say to that. His heart raced and his anger subsided suddenly. This was it. This was Ian calling out. This was Ian opening up. This was Ian needing him, needing to feel loved, needing to feel like nothing is really done and his feelings were being acknowledged. This is probably the strongest emotional outburst Ian could handle and Mickey felt as if so much of Ian's strenght was depending solely on his answer. So he simply went with: "I love you too. Happy New Year.“ and hung up the phone.

Fuck, that was hard. Admitting something like that after everything that had happened between them… After everything Mickey went through. After promising to himself that he wasn't going to feel that anymore, not for Ian at least. But those promises meant very little, he knew that. You can't suddenly unlove someone. You can't suddenly stop feeling. Mickey had been trying that his entire life and where did it lead him? He probably only felt more. The feelings creeped up on him when he wasn't expecting, when he wasn't ready and they tore apart everything he once believed he was. So there's no point in forcing yourself not to feel. You can only wish to feel more and to feel differently. So today, as his New Year's resolution, he chose to feel without regret and to set himself free once more.

He breathed in once more before going back to work. Yes, he loves him. And yes, he can do just fine without him. The night wasn't as dark anymore and a new beginning wasn't as distant anymore. Maybe this time it didn't have to be only a silly cliché.

He looked at the night sky. Feelings can make good friends if you know how and when to express them.

 

 


End file.
